Truth Be Told
by HoofsTails Gal
Summary: Sam and Dean go on an adventure that leads to a small banter and a realization that neither wants to admit.


_Summary: _Sam and Dean go on an adventure that leads to a small banter and a realization that neither wants to admit.

_A/N: _Here it is again. Updated and fixed. Warning: Slight language Let me know if you guys want another chapter with a review requesting it. Tah

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Supernatural or it's characters. I also have a saying in here from a shirt… It's someone else's logo and I don't claim it what-so-ever!

**Truth Be Told**

Dean slammed the bar against the window and then looked over his shoulder trying to find his younger brother.

"Sam!"

There was no response, but he continued to try and break the glass from its frame. This hunting expedition had gone sickly awry and, for once, Dean wanted a safe way out. He didn't mind going back and facing the dang thing as long as his brother was safe.

"Sam!" Dean slammed one final time against the window and smirked as it smashed to pieces. He looked down the drop and cringed. It was a long fall, but a broken leg was better then being dead.

"Sam," from downstairs there was a loud bang and Dean heard his brother yell in fright, "shit!" He ran to the top of the stairs and looked down.

Every single item in the warehouse was flying in all directions.

"Sam!"

Once again there was no response. Dean raced down the steps two at a time and ran, gun loaded with salt and extra canisters in his jacket, to the far side of the room. He had barely managed to make it half way across when he saw his brother's inert form several feet way.

"Sammy! Hang on buddy!" Dean ducked to avoid collision with a giant box full of china wear. Sam was being pelted with all kinds of things, but he didn't flinch, suggesting that he was unconscious.

Dean made it to his brother's form and shook his shoulder. Sam didn't move, but just as Dean was preparing to pick him up a large bag of manure came flying toward them. Without thinking, Dean snatched Sam and rolled both of them out of harms way. The bag hit the wall and burst out all of its contents.

"Disgusting," Dean moaned as dung splattered in his hair. He quickly put his mind back on task.

"Sam, get the hell up… NOW!" Dean shook him harder then before and Sam flinched awake.

"Ow…"

"Yeah, you won't be saying that in ten seconds… come to think of it, you won't be saying anything at all if you don't get up and run!"

Sam listened and shot to his feet, dodging a tire that had suddenly switched routes from going to the end of the warehouse to Sam's head.

Dean shot up as well and they both made their way, jumping and avoiding flying objects along the path to the stairs.

Sam stumbled suddenly when a knife lodged into his right thigh. Dean, who had been fallowing along behind, came careening to a halt when his brother fell to the ground holding his leg and blocking the only way up the stairs.

Another utensil came flying dangerously close to Dean's eye, but he moved just in time and without thinking bent down to help his brother to a standing position.

"Why do I always have to save your ass?" Dean huffed while practically dragging his brother up the stairs. Sam, who was focusing on the pain in his thigh didn't answer, but instead lost his balance and fell hard against Dean.

Practically unable to avoid falling, Dean grabbed onto the railing and pushed Sam up so he wouldn't roll down too. With his blood pumping from narrowly avoiding breaking his neck, Dean once again regained his composure and grabbed Sam's arm, laying it over his shoulder to hoist him up the last few steps.

"Let's go," Dean pushed him to the broken window.

Sam took a breath and then hesitantly looked at the drop. "It's too far Dean."

"Well, it's either that or have your head smashed in by a giant wrench!" Sam looked at him and then disobediently started to limp for the door.

"Where are you going," Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder and turned him around. "Look, just land in…" He looked out the window and saw a small black berry bush a few feet out, "that bush there."

Sam glared at him. "You first Captain!"

Dean returned the glare. "Why, so then you can land on me? I'm telling you, this is so much better then being hit with a wrench."

He balanced himself and then jumped. His aim was perfect. There was a little tuft of bushes that weren't pokey and he landed in them. His ankle twisted and the pain shot up his leg. He sat there, wanting to curse the world, but not able to find the words that would do so effectively.

"Dean, are you ok?" Sam's voice only set off the white-hot daggers of anger.

"No, I twisted my damn ankle!" He snapped venomously and then rubbed it roughly, which did not help at all.

Sam didn't say anything else. The warehouse shook on its foundation and he suddenly fell forward.

Dean heard the half suppressed cry of surprise, but when he turned Sam was already only a few inches above the ground. He landed with a hard bang on his side and shuddered.

All pain in his ankle forgotten, Dean limped quickly to Sam, who, thankfully was breathing in mewling gasps.

"Sam?" Dean knelt down, trying to allow as little weight as possible on his twisted ankle.

"I'm ok," Sam sat up, holding his side and head, which had a little blood leaking from a bump. He flinched when Dean reached out and touched the already swollen part of his head.

"That hurts!" Sam rubbed it and then bit his lip.

"I bet… What did you go and land on your head for?" Dean stood up, putting no weight on his leg.

"Dean, you're pissing me off!" Sam stood too, whipping away the blood that kept dripping from the throbbing lump on his head. He touched his side and then groaned as he felt an extremely tender spot.

"Let me see," Dean said halfheartedly and took a step closer to look at Sam's side. He pushed it and drew back as Sam flinched away.

"Let's go and then we'll worry about it." Sam started stumbling away from the still trembling warehouse and towards Dean's car.

"Don't you dare get blood on the seat Sammy!"

"Don't call me that!" Sam yelled over his shoulder.

"You heard me," Dean put some weight on his ankle and stumbled along, the pain ebbing away only slightly.

They climbed in, Dean rightfully behind the wheel. Fortunately, his left ankle had twisted, and he could still drive his Impala without pain.

"_What_ is that smell?" Sam scrunched his nose and then looked at Dean. "And what's in your hair?"

Dean mumbled something incoherent.

"What?" Sam rolled down the window.

"I said," Dean growled, "that it's manure."

Sam tried so hard not to laugh at his older brother, but after a few seconds of suppressed snorts he finally broke out in fits of laughter. He quickly regretted it though, because his side still hurt badly.

"Dean," Sam laughed again, "Manure happens." He laughed more gently that time, trying to prevent an ache in his side.

Dean glared at him. "I aught to have left you in that warehouse."

"You would never do that!"

"Sure I would… it's not like you wouldn't have friends. You'd get along perfectly fine with all the stock in there."

Dean laughed while Sam scowled.

"It does smell really bad though," Sam complained, leaning toward the window and breathing in some air. "Are we staying anywhere tonight so you can bathe."

"I'm tempted to say no just so that you have to suffer with the stench, but yes, I need to check your wounds anyway."

Sam nodded and closed his eyes, suddenly feeling very weary.

"Hey Sam," Dean said loudly, "I think you should stay awake. I don't want you to have a nightmare with a lump on your head."

Sam opened his eyes slowly and looked at Dean. "Do you think we'll ever find Dad?"

Dean squirmed uneasily. "Maybe… why do you always ask things like that?"

"Because I never know if I'll live to see the next day," Sam rubbed his side again.

"As long as I'm here you will. Otherwise you're pretty much a hopeless case." Dean turned into a small hotel with a sign that read 'Vacancy'.

"Yeah," Sam climbed out and the two brothers made their way limping and groaning into the check in station.


End file.
